Demons
by Lady Black Mage
Summary: Oliver Queen knows a thing or two about personal sins. Saying it doesn't tear him up on the inside would be a lie... (This drabble/oneshot was originally written based on a prompt from the DCFanfictionWriters group on deviantArt. The prompt was "black kryptonite"; you were to take a character, OC or canon, and show the two sides of them at war. I started writing... THIS happened.)


**A/N:** I did not think that I would ever in the world write something for Green Arrow for a prompt. But you can blame my interest in Ollie. I've watched the first two seasons of _Arrow_ (still have yet to catch up with season three,) and due to the show, it actually caused me to take notice of his character more so in the comics and in his animated appearances. (I get laughed at when I go to the bookstore now and ask if there are any Green Arrow trade paperbacks in the graphic novel section.) So just to forewarn you all, there are hints of canon-blending in here. I canon-blend like there is no tomorrow, and have become rather notorious for it on deviantArt. That being said, enjoy. Disclaimer is obviously that I own none of this, even the cover image that I snagged off of Google. (I'll change it once I can get someone to draw me a more appropriate one.)

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><p>"Oliver Queen."<p>

He knew his name, just as he knew his own voice. Broken glass or dead leaves crunched beneath his feet as he slowly turned. He wasn't sure which, but it didn't matter. Everything was sharp and cold, and it was threatening to dig under his skin and slam like a blade's point into his ribcage.

A familiar silhouette was approaching him, after-image blurring eerily in spite of how slow the figure moved. Oliver knew that careworn green hood and that hardened, scowling face.

He saw both every time he looked in the mirror.

"You have _failed_ this city."

Broken glass crunched underfoot again. Now Oliver was sure that was what it was. After all, there were plenty of old school fairy tales involving something about mirrors and dark reflections of the soul. He didn't want to believe it, but staring into his own face and seeing two obsidian pools where his eyes should have been, he was starting to. He attempted to lick his parched lips as he tried to consider how best to respond to this... other him. His mind raced through several possibilities, wondering how Bruce, Clark, Diana and several others might suggest responding.

But Ollie had always done his own thing. And his reflection smiled at him in a knowing way that prickled at him. No, he would handle this without wondering about it.

"I haven't failed Star City." He answered evenly. "Not unless you want to really want to start dissembling."

"Oh, you have. Trust me on this one, Oliver. You're not perfect. You failed this city to begin with, and you've been trying ever since the island to pick up the pieces and fit them back together."

"So now we're damning me for being a stupid kid and pulling a sins-of-the-father schtick?" He asked in irritation, crossing his arms. "How do you figure that, genius?"

"You aren't getting it, are you, Queen? I know all of your sins, every scar and stain that's marking up your soul." A gleeful voice hissed out of the broad grin just hiding in the shadows of the green cowl.

"Are you sure? Because you're starting to get a little poetic on me, and I suck at just trying to rhyme. You aren't actually Count Vertigo under that hood, are you?"

A slow, rolling chuckle spilled in soft waves out of the reflection, and he shuddered. He couldn't ever recall laughing that way for any reason; he hadn't known he could even do that.

"I am _you_, Oliver Jonas Queen. All that ugliness you've tried to hide or get rid of over the years; every self-made nightmare; every mistake; all the blood on your hands... Every. Single. Evil. In you."

The words thudded silently in the air around them.

Dead leaves and broken glass rose, dancing in a kaleidoscope whirlwind. It swallowed them both, and Oliver had to shut his eyes, shielding them with his hands.

"You have _failed_ your family."

"If you mean my mother and—"

"You know I do," the reflection's words reverberated around him, unbound by the laws of the whirlwind, "And you _failed_ your friends."

"That was never my intention." He answered, lowering his voice and blinking warily. The last thing he wanted was glass shards entering his eyes. Damn it, why wasn't he wearing his mask or his costume? Why was this 'evil him' dressed as the Green Arrow?

"The road to Hell is paved with the best of intentions. You know that, Queen. It's also paved with a body count. Your body count." The reflection hissed, his boots tapping softly as he walked closer. "All those people you've failed to save because of your little 'crusade.' Everyone who got too close or got in the way, and paid the price for _your_ mistakes."

"Don't you think I know that?" Oliver muttered, a spike of anger carrying through his voice. "We've all lost people. Even Clark has lost people."

"Nobody like you and your body count, my friend," the other him laughed, his footfalls coming to a stop, and a hand closed over his wrist, yanking it down violently from his face, "Use any excuse or justification you want, but you've lost more and killed more than any of the others combined. Even Bruce's hands aren't as stained."

"I know," he replied, heart sinking, "I know it's my fault, directly or indirectly. But I knew going into this there would be consequences, prices to pay. It doesn't make it any easier, but it gives me more incentive to try to save people."

"Saving a few dozen more lives doesn't clean up spilled blood, Oliver, and you know that. You have _failed_ them."

His eyes were jerked open against his will as hands closed around his throat from behind. Blinking and gasping, he stared as he was shoved forward, his chest hitting an invisible barrier as he looked down upon the cityscape. The whirlwind of glass and leaves made ghostly shrieks around them. He blinked again, and realized he was being shown a building; one very specific building at that.

"You have failed Queen Consolidated." His own voice growled in his ear. "The company your parents poured time, money, sweat, blood, sleepless nights, and tears into, to give you all a comfortable life. You may have tried to erase the fact the company was built upon the broken backs of the little people, but you failed. You have tried to dedicate your time and efforts into lifting Queen Consolidated out of the ashes but you've failed that too, haven't you? Can't even succeed at being a CEO and making your parents proud, can you?"

"Bite me." Oliver growled, and fingers dug into the back of his hair, yanking painfully. He screamed wordlessly as he was ripped back into the wind, losing his footing as he tumbled haphazardly over and over, his stomach churning and his blood boiling.

"You failed John," the Arrow's voice boomed and filled the world, carried on the shrieking backs of the glass in the tornado, "You failed Felicity. You failed your mother and your sister. You failed your father. You failed Slade."

He tried to suck in a breath, prepared to tell his other self to do something rather inappropriate, but the wind stole the air from his lungs. Choking, he flipped over one last time before the wind dropped him in the dead of an alleyway, slick with rain from a thunderstorm, dark with shadows of night. Concrete slammed into his side and his right arm erupted with pain. Gasping and groaning in agony, he forced himself upright until he could sit on his knees, trying to suck in a breath.

A lone figure stood a few yards ahead of him, eyes dark with anger flashing beneath a mop of drenched ginger hair.

"No..." Oliver whispered hoarsely, realizing what was being thrown in his face. "Roy..."

The young man threw something down into a puddle at his feet, water splashing up and stinging Oliver in the face. He didn't need to look at it; Roy had always hated that hat. Without a word, he turned and stalked off furiously into the gathering gloom, vanishing in moments.

"And the greatest sin of all?"

The Arrow had reappeared next to him, arms crossed and his face impassive as he stared after the boy.

"You _failed_ the one person who loved you almost unconditionally. You didn't just let him down, Queen... you kicked him _while_ he was down!"

If the reflection had been hoping to spur him into anger, it didn't work. Everything he had said was true, and Oliver knew it. It weighed on his mind every night before he slept, and it was one of the only things that still hurt as fresh as the day it happened.

"It's true..." he murmured, casting his eyes down and watching as the rainwater stained his slacks. "I know I'm a selfish bastard sometimes. I try not to be, but it's not like I can take it back when I am. But... Roy never deserved that. The kid deserved better. He _still_ deserves better, and I'll never be able to do that for him."

Tears burned hot in his eyes and spilled forth, mixing with the rain that hit his cheeks.

"I can never take that back. It was the one time I was a selfish bastard that I can never take back, no matter how much I'm willing to give up for the chance to make things right. Don't you think I know I've failed him? Yeah, sure, there's trusty old Ollie, happy to have a little buddy to pal around with and call his little brother... But I was stupid, and wrapped up in myself. If I had opened my damn eyes a bit more, I wonder if I would have seen it. Roy needed a father. He needed someone to guide him, someone who would love him and give him what my father tried to give to me. And what did I do? Forgot about him because I was too bull-headed. Forgot for _months_, not just a couple of days. That's... that's negligence. I've brought in people for that before, but I'm no better than them... And when I finally did get back to the kid, I was still too blind to see what he was going through, and still too self-absorbed. I didn't just neglect him... I beat him... God Almighty, I _hit_ the kid..."

There was a brief second of silence before the other him spoke again.

"Why don't I show you how it feels, Oliver?"

He glanced to the shadow on the ground. The hooded silhouette was raising a fist, preparing to backhand him. Inhaling deeply, Oliver shut his eyes.

The blow cracked against his cheekbone and it was only due to the fact he knew to roll with the punch that nothing broke. But it hurt like hell and he hit his other side against the cement, hissing sharply in pain.

"Oliver Queen. You! Have failed! This! City!"

A bowstring groaned in protest. An arrow-shaft creaked.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, shards of glass raining from the sky as tears continued to cut tracks down his cheeks. He stared dully out at nothing, continuing to whisper apologies to ears that would never hear his conviction and awaiting his fate.

"Ollie?"

Everything went still. The rain halted its progress as it fell, droplets hanging in midair. There was a sharp, almost frightened intake of breath from the unseen archer.

"Oliver?"

Something in his spirit, something he hadn't known was restless, went still. Warmth blossomed in his chest as the new voice spoke with loving tenderness.

"Honestly, Mister Queen, you should know better than to fall asleep at a Halloween party! You're lucky Barry keeps them tame, but still."

He groaned and truly blinked this time, his eyes fluttering rapidly before everything swam into focus in a gold-orange blur. He found he was staring up into a familiar face, but it was not the twisted mirror that had been torturing him.

A smile turned up the corners of Dinah's mouth as she brushed hair out of his face.

"Hello, sleeping beauty." She chuckled.

"...time is it?" He mumbled sleepily.

"About midnight, more or less. Did you not get any sleep last night?"

He shrugged non-committally. Absently he remembered his right arm was still healing from a recent beating, and he had rolled onto his left side to avoid aggravating tender bruises.

"How long was I out, Dinah?"

"An hour, maybe two." She replied, before curiously examining his face. He flushed, not wanting to meet her eyes but unable to tear his gaze away. It had always been the single unnerving thing about Dinah; she saw right through to the truth with him, every time. The single most calming presence in his life was also the most disquieting one at times.

"Bad dreams?" She asked gently. He could only nod and look away. Silently, she brushed the hair from his eyes again, fingers gently massaging his temples. "I'm sorry, sweetie. How are you feeling now?"

He looked back up to her eyes, a familiar fluttering in his heart.

"Calm." He answered after a moment's pause. "Content."

"Honestly, Ollie?" Barry's voice laughed somewhere out of his range of vision. "What kind of answer is _that?_"

He shut his eyes, the faint ghost of a smile on his mouth as he lost himself in Dinah's soothing presence. It was perhaps the most stupid answer, but it was the most honest. Something in him was at peace again, thanks to her. It would not stay quiet forever, but for as long as he was with her, he was whole again. Broken, perhaps, and as ugly as he was virtuous, but whole.


End file.
